The boy's eyes darkened with a dangerous rage as he advanced towards her in a threatening manner. His jaw clenched aggressively, the muscles working under his cheek as he attempted to stay calm. But Daisy Kennedy had managed to scrape away his cool...
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May, 1936
𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 it was a sunny day when her father passed away. She could recall how the ray of light through the hospital windows caused the small white room to almost glow, giving it the appearance of heaven. It seemed fitting, having a pure environment for the most kind-hearted person she knew.
She had held her father's hand solemnly, sitting on the left side of his bed while her older sister sat on the right.
Patrick Kennedy had been diagnosed with CAD, known as Coronary Artery Disease. Daisy knew by reading medical books that this disease affected 5% of adults over the age of 20, and that 20% of those adults died before the age of 65. It seemed her father had been cursed with horrible luck.
It seemed ironic that a man who had once been an adored Auror was now in a hospital bed, going from grand places of magic to a mundane muggle setting.
The two girls were all alone, since their mother had died in childbirth to Daisy. Their father never talked about her either. Apparently she had died unnaturally.
But most of all, she remembered her father's last few words to her and Mackenzie, her sister. His eyes were thin slivers of blue then, his body fighting to stay alive, but he had managed to open his mouth and speak in his last moments.
"Remember that you are good. Remember that you are kind," he whispered. "And most importantly, remember where you came from."
And even though she was only 9, she would indeed remember those words for the rest of her life.
When her father's hand in hers went limp, she reached for the one with life, and stared into her sisters eyes, a replica of her own pale brown ones. An unspoken message was passed between them.
They would do everything in their power to follow their father's last words.
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗
June, 1936
Wool's Orphanage was much more menacing and devoid of life than it had appeared in the photographs. It also didn't help that London always looked like someone had sucked all the cooler and happiness out of it with a syringe.
She didn't say anything however, waiting for her sister to decide what impression it gave off. Even though she was only younger by one year, she still looked up to Mackenzie, and often followed in suit of the older girl's opinions.
"I've said it once, and I will say it again," Mackenzie spoke, cutting into the brisk air with her soft voice. "I don't understand why this awful woman has decided to bring us here. And how are we supposed to go to Hogwarts if we're stuck in a horrendous muggle settlement?"
Daisy rolled her eyes inadvertently. Hogwarts was all Mackenzie had been talking about for the past month. Ever since their father had left this world a month ago, the 11-year-old had been non-stop chattering about following their father's footsteps of attending the school for witches and wizards and getting into Hufflepuff.
